


Strength Is a Gift (So Are My Good Looks)

by snarkstark



Category: MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cocky Tony, Cute Ending, Fluff, Fluffy fic, He's probably secretly broken, Jealous Steve, Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M, Steve has a little crush, Steve x Tony - Freeform, Stony - Freeform, Tony and Steve are competitive, Tony is kind of oblivious, gay fluff, literally nothing but cuteness, stony fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkstark/pseuds/snarkstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Strength is a gift.” Steve reminded him. Tony wasn't listening to any of his heart-of-gold-mindset trash. “So are my good looks.” He retorted with a smirk. The billionaire was so not going to lose this arm wrestle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength Is a Gift (So Are My Good Looks)

**Author's Note:**

> A cute little Stony fluff fic for you guys. I promise a Cherik sometime. (I might do a continuation of this one sometime.)

"I'm telling you, Capsicle. Those steroids you're on can't beat my genius tech." Tony emphasised again, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in one hand. He had evidently just emerged from the workshop, where he had no doubt been for a couple of sleepless nights. The oil stains on his clothes and the ruffled hair let Steve know that he was tired, but apparently, this did nothing to dampen his ability to get on Steve's nerves. "And I'm telling you that we won't be finding out," Steve replied, not looking up from his newspaper. Yes, he knew that there were plenty of alternatives to a paper now, he could read it online - maybe on one of Stark's fancy StarkPads or holograms that no one else but him (and Bruce) seemed to be able to work. But Steve liked the crinkling sound, the black print, the memories that it brought back of the forties and doing the paper round with Bucky when they were short on that month's rent. So no, he wasn't going to use the damn tablet. "It's just because you're scared." Tony accused smugly, lifting himself to sit on the edge of the counter and swinging his legs. They didn't quite touch the ground ("I'm not short, Rogers, you're just scientifically a giant.")

Tony had started this yesterday when he'd been dragged up by Bruce to eat something and socially interact with his other teammates. Stark seemed to have a current fascination with finding out whether his armour gauntlet or Steve's arm was stronger. The Captain was refusing, partly because he didn't want it all to escalate into a huge competition and partly because it amused him to see Tony so bursting with curiosity and unable to satisfy it for once. Being called a coward ticked him off, probably just as Tony planned it would. "I'm not a coward, go back to your basement and play with your toys," Steve replied to him sharply. To his even greater annoyance, Tony just threw him an amused grin and getting him to retaliate and performed a very sarcastic salute. "Yes, Captain." His voice literally dripped with snark. Then he was gone, probably back to the basement with his best buddy Bruce and talking about science. Steve was neither jealous of how Bruce was always Tony's favourite friend or noticing how quiet the kitchen was when the genius wasn't occupying it. Honestly. Really. Maybe.

The next day, Tony was back at it. He looked much better rested, his hair neat and his clothes smart as he walked around the kitchen, a piece of toast in his mouth and AC/DC playing too loudly for Steve's taste. "Are you trying to go deaf?" He asked him, disbelieving at how anyone could enjoy such loud music at such an early hour; Tony had probably fallen to sleep at some weird time and decided he'd start his day four hours before everyone else. "If your arms are as weak as your ears, my suit will beat them without a problem," Tony asked, finishing his sentence with a bite of toast and a smirk. Steve rolled his eyes and got himself a bottle of (unnecessarily fancy and expensive) mineral water, and fled the Tower to go on a run before he rose to Tony's bait again.

It became a regular thing, and Steve was getting annoyed about it. Not a single day would pass - Tony even texted him while he was away on business trips - to remind him that it was a challenge that he would win. Steve had actually taken to avoiding Tony, and listening in to his conversations with other people so that he could hear his fiery friend's sass without it being directed at him. He'd never felt like such a loser than when he was standing outside listening to the easy banter that passed between Clint and Tony while they played videos together, or when Tony and Natasha shared passing comments in Italian (Tony's Mother taught him since that was where she was from).

It became quite the routine, and in all honesty, if Tony had known about all the things Steve did to check that he was happy and healthy, he probably would've been surprised. Steve made sure Bruce fed him and exercised him and the Captain couldn't help thinking that no one had told him that looking after a Stark was like looking after a puppy.

When Steve finally snapped, it wasn't even face to face. It was because Tony Stark, that arrogant, persistent man, had left him a packed lunch before he went to the gym with a note.  
'Better eat to make sure you retain your muscle mass. If your arms get any weaker, you'll be losing to Clint ~ T.'  
Steve was honestly speechless. He simply couldn't believe that someone could be so annoying, go so out of their way to do something like that. Without really thinking about it, Steve decided that he would give Tony the challenge he wanted, and went to find him.

His first thought was the basement, Tony was rarely somewhere else unless he was asked to be, so he headed down there with a determined attitude. Sure enough, Tony was there, and ironically, that was the only flaw in his confrontational plan. Steve was sure that if the genius had been anywhere else, he would have had no problem approaching him and accepting his challenge, but Tony was working. That in itself sounded neither strange nor extraordinary, but Steve had never once been able to interrupt Tony when he was really working on something. Maybe it was something to do with the expression he was wearing, the expression which was both utterly focused and completely glazed over and far away. The one that was lost and found and radiated genius. Nothing short of brilliant. Steve would've sketched it if that wouldn't have made him seem like such an idiot. Maybe one day when Tony was completely absorbed he would be able to get away with it before the genius even noticed his presence.

Steve lurked in the doorway for a few more moments, watching Tony's hands fly over his machinery, his lips mumble things that only make sense to someone with a stupid amount of PhDs, and his eyes convey thought, realisation, excitement - distractingly long eyelashes framing these emotions perfectly. When he'd gotten enough, he retreated quietly, returning upstairs and deciding that he would no longer ignore Tony.

If one good thing came out of the whole thing, Tony seemed much warmer towards him after being avoided for a while, appearing excited to have his friend back. "Morning, Capsicle. Here's you lame decaf." Tony greeted him, setting a cup of coffee down.   
"Lame? I don't see anything lame about getting enough sleep not to need caffeine." Steve replied, turning the page of his newspaper.  
"You really are an old person." Tony said, half exasperated, half fond - a mix that Steve was well associated with when Tony talked to him.

"You should drink decaf." Steve insisted for the one-hundredth time, "All that caffeine is terrible for you."  
"Ugh, I bought you a coffee and all I got was a lecture," Tony complained, taking a long drink. Steve actually did feel bad at that.   
"I'm sorry. Thank you." Steve corrected himself, berating his own lack of manners mentally. Tony dismissed his apology with a wave of his hand, which made Steve feel worse because it was little things like brushing away apologies, and not accepting compliments that let Steve in on the horrifying concept that Tony was used to it.

One day, he was sure he would confront Tony about how obviously broken he was, but he didn't feel that he was close enough, knew enough, deserved enough to be the one to fix him. For now, Steve would just have to bear the pain of watching Tony fake smiles and laughs, crack jokes when he's hurt and push people away.

"So, in return for that coffee, will you accept my challenge?" Tony asked hopefully, draining his cup easily and setting down his Stark Industries mug and raising an eyebrow. "You're obsessed, gosh darn it." Steve sighed. Tony laughed, amused at his quaint ways of avoiding language. "C'mon Steve, I might even say please if you don't agree soon."  
"That, I'd like to see."  
"That's unfair! I'm always polite." Tony lied indignantly.  
Steve rolled his eyes and mimicked him. "'Here's your lame decaf.'"  
"That's part of my charm."  
"What charm?" Steve countered.  
"The charm that has you wandering around the Tower like a lost puppy when you avoid me," Tony said cockily.

Steve shook his head and stood up, heading for the door before stopping in his tracks when Tony spoke again. "Please?" He spun around, not believing that the word had actually left Tony Stark's lips. "Did you just-"  
"Don't make me say it again." Tony interrupted him distastefully.  
"Fine. One arm wrestle." Steve agreed shortly. Tony flashed him a million dollar smile, that made Steve forget all the reasons that this was a stupid idea.  
"Wear the costume?"  
"It's a suit."  
"Sure thing spangles."  
\---  
“My money's on Tony,” Bruce said simply, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands.   
“Aw. You came out of the lab to cheerlead your boyfriend?” Clint teased him. Bruce flapped him dismissively with the sleeve and Clint snickered. “Came to support the resident genius and write down any observations.” Bruce corrected him.   
“Uh huh, it's not science unless you write it down,” Tony smirked. Natasha slunk into the room silently and sat on the windowsill. “Steve.” She said simply. Tony said something that was probably very rude to her in Italian, while Steve watched and wondered what he'd said.  
“With ‘Tasha.” Clint agreed, sprawling on the couch.   
“Sorry, my gentle Captain, but I believe the armour will prevail.” Thor sat next to Bruce and Tony smirked, flexing his metal-encased fingers.

“Can you get any more obnoxious?” Steve asked the billionaire in disbelief.   
“I can try,” Tony answered enthusiastically, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the table.  
“Why did I ask…?” Steve muttered, rolling his baby blue eyes pointedly. Tony just snickered at his unamused attitude.  
“Get on with it then! Some us have actual lives.” Clint called, laying on the sofa and watching with half peaked interest.   
“Some of us doesn't include you. At least twice a week I walk into the archery range and mistake you for a homeless person.” Tony shot back, smirking.  
“Hey! Just because I train long hours!” Clint protested sulkily. Tony laughed at his friend’s behaviour and leant precariously on one leg of his chair to pat his head.   
“I'm only kidding, little Clint.” He said condescendingly. Clint grinned and kicked the chair leg, almost making Tony fall to the floor.

Watching them interact so easily, joking and trading jabs as well as the casual touches and fighting made Steve feel a tug of jealousy again. He wasn't sure what it was, maybe he would never be able to fit into the group dynamic - and more importantly Tony’s solar system - like that, because he was from such a long time ago that try as he might he couldn't pick up on humor and the topics that Tony and the others related to and enjoyed connecting over. Signing, Steve spoke. “Are we here to see who wins or to watch you two flirting?” He asked with a sideways grin that wasn't completely real. Tony, shameless as ever, winked at Clint and blew him a kiss, which the archer pretended to catch, sending them both into fits of laughter. That made Steve feel even more jealous, and also happy at the same time. He was sure that back in his time if two men had flirted so outrageously, even when their love was platonic, they would not have been treated with the offhanded amusement that the other Avengers were expressing at the moment.

Finally, Tony seemed ready to start the damn arm wrestle. He sat properly on the table and placed one elbow down after running a hand covered in bright red metal through his perfect hair, eyes flicking up to Steve’s. Like usual, they were so much more expressive than any other of Tony’s features, brimming with curiosity, amusement and anticipation while the rest of him portrayed cockiness. Steve put his elbow on the table, he was not wearing the suit, he already thought this was stupid enough as it was. They laced their fingers together, the metal cool against Steve’s hand and rock hard. He actually started to wonder if Tony’s suit would win. He wouldn't have minded were it not for the fact that neither Tony or Clint would ever let him live it down and he wasn't sure he could bear that. “On three,” Tony said fairly, apparently not trying to play dirty. He counted down, the grip on Steve’s hand tightening close to the point of pain when he reached one.

They started to push against each other's hand as hard as they could, trying to get the other competitor’s knuckles to hit the smooth table surface. Neither of them moved more than a few centimetres in either direction before it switched. One thing that Steve had not been expecting was the suit and his own serum enhanced arm to be matched in strength, both unable to overcome the other. And so, it became a match of endurance. They trash talked as they faced each other, glaring competitively. “Strength is a gift.” Steve reminded him. Tony wasn't listening to any of his heart-of-gold-mindset trash.  
“So are my good looks.” He retorted with a smirk. The billionaire was so not going to lose this arm wrestle.

After five minutes, Clint was bored. “This sucks.” He announced. “I'm not wasting my day watching you two hold hands.” He grinned and threw his bow and quiver over his shoulder.  
“Jealous?” Tony teased him on his way out, slipping back a few centimetres while he was distracted. He came back strong when he realised that he was closer to the table and gave a quick excursion of strength which made them even once more. Thor seemed more than amused watching still, for a God that guy was very easily amused, and Natasha remained on her windowsill, though she was reading a book on Muwari (A type of Hindi language) as if her other thirty-three fluent languages weren't enough. Bruce was doing some of Tony’s paperwork and judging at the same time, mostly in case Tony decided he was bored and he would cheat to win and end it. It wasn't like he didn't have his own work to do, he was just every bit as susceptible to Tony’s puppy dog eyes and charming words as Steve was whenever they weren't on duty. In fact, Steve was so immune to any kind of begging, pleading and joking when he was Captain America, Tony had started referring to him as either Captain Assmerica or Steve Sweet as Apple Pie Rogers. Both were equally irritating.

The day wore on, Tony kicked him under the table several times and Steve kicked back. He was hungry, he had a fast metabolism and needed to eat more than Tony did (who's diet was seventy percent coffee), not to mention how his fingers were cramped and his arm ached. Despite this, never in a million years would Steve give Tony the satisfaction of letting him win. Clint had decided to be annoying too, returning to tell them very loudly that he was ordering Italian, Tony's favourite, and that they could come into the kitchen if they wanted any. The billionaire whined out loud like a kicked puppy, and the smell of the food taunted them.

Another hour passed and Steve was bitterly regretting to the whole stupid thing. “Isn't this enough information for your experiment?” Steve pointed out.  
“Sure it is. Let go whenever.” Tony answered, his words casual but his eyes challenging. Steve glared at him and remained where he sat. Afternoon turned to evening, and Tony’s head drooped. No doubt he'd been up for days and he didn't even have any work to distract himself with. The super soldier was tired too, the sun had long ago set and all he wanted was to go to sleep. In their tiredness and half-hearted war state, neither of them were quite sure how it happened.

How their eyelids started to close…

How the yawns became increasingly more frequent…

How Tony looked so much less worried when he was sleepy…

And Steve started to loosen his grip a little….

They woke up to the click of a camera and the smell of pancakes. Both had one side of their faces pressed against the marble and they weren't gripping each other's hands, just holding them loosely in the centre of the table. Steve blinked and spotted the source of the camera, Clint of course, and then Tony’s face a few inches from him, half awake and looking lost. “Did I win?” He mumbled. Steve laughed a little and tried not to look reluctant as he pulled his hand away. Not having the heart, Steve lied.   
“Yeah. You win.”

Tony grinned widely and sat up, stretching and yawning, blinking his stupidly long lashes languidly. Steve waited for the inevitable teasing and bragging, but ended up being left stunned in his seat when Tony smiled at him and left with a “Thanks for playing, Capsicle.” What? Where was the smugness? Where was the teasing? He must have looked like an idiot because Clint was snickering. “He's impossible, isn't he? Just when you think you know him…” He trailed off, shaking his head and looking amused. “C’mon Steve. Pancakes?” Steve followed Clint into the kitchen where Tony was sat quite contentedly, devouring a stack of pancakes. The man was an utter mystery, the most confusing person the Captain had ever had the good fortune of meeting. He supposed that was the moment when Steve made his ‘want’ an actual goal. He would be the one to truly know Tony Stark.


End file.
